Taking Care of Tony
by MonPetitTresor
Summary: When Tony asked the Avengers to move into the Tower, he'd expected it to help the team, give them somewhere they'd all be able to call home, and maybe gain a few friends along the way. He knew a little bit about most of them, but no one thought to warn him about one Clint Barton. (No romance)


If someone asked Tony when it all started, he wasn't quite sure he'd be able to pinpoint any one thing. No, what happened was more like a culmination of moments, each one little yet significant, that finally built together to create something different, something _new_ , and something he'd never expected to find. Especially not with a snarky, ridiculous archer with ties to a group that Tony had sworn never to be stupid enough to trust.

It started sometime after the Avengers all began to move into his Tower. Before that, Tony had only ever seen the others during the Battle itself and then occasionally around SHIELD when Fury would call him in. Other than that, he hadn't really interacted with any of the others except Natasha, and even that had been under false pretenses.

Tony knew little things about most of his new teammates. Everyone knew about Captain America, of course, and Tony probably knew more than most. He'd certainly heard about the man often enough growing up. Howard had talked about him plenty. He'd held the man up as everything that Tony should be – and everything he wasn't. It'd made it kind of hard to look at the guy. Harder still when Tony started to realize that the guy was pretty much just as good as Howard had always said he was.

He knew about Bruce, too, of course. The man was _brilliant_ and Tony wanted to sit around with him and pick his brain for hours. The fact that he could turn into a giant green rage monster, well, no one was perfect, and the Hulk was awesome in his own right, too.

What he knew about Natalie – excuse him, _Natasha_ – was all lies. Though, as he got to know her, it seemed that most people seemed to know only lies about her. Tony had no idea what the actual truth was about her and he didn't really want to take the time to figure it out. She was the only member of the team that seemed to wear her masks more often, and more seamlessly, than he did.

Thor, well, he knew the file on the man. He'd read all that SHIELD had on him, which wasn't really a lot. But none of that could prepare someone for the boisterous force of nature that was Thor Odinson.

But out of everyone on the team, it was Clint Barton who was the mystery. World Class archer, one of SHIELD's top agents, briefly mind controlled by Loki yet somehow got knocked back straight and helped them kick ass in the end. Tony looked at the guy's SHIELD file just like he did everyone else's, but Clint's file was full of a whole bunch of nothing. Tiny little tidbits that didn't really do more than explain a few missions. Buried deep in their systems were a few more, usually done with Natasha at his side, as well as some of the aliases he kept. Still, Tony wasn't stupid enough to think those were even _half_ of what the man had done, either. SHIELD kept some missions off their systems. The thing about not trusting anyone the way that SHIELD did was that _you didn't trust anyone_. Not even their own people. Fury kept a lot of things close to his chest.

With the others on his team, Tony at least had a general idea of what to expect when they moved in with him. With Barton, he had no idea, and that had him off kilter from the get-go. Tony was used to being able to find out just about anything he wanted about someone. If he couldn't find out about them, JARVIS could. But neither of them found much of anything about Clinton Francis Barton. There was nothing to tell Tony how he should act with him or what he should expect.

What he got, well, it wasn't quite what he expected, but it was apparently exactly what he needed.

* * *

They all got together the first night after everyone had finished moving in. It was Steve's idea – a 'Team Bonding' sort of thing. Tony rolled his eyes when JARVIS had passed along the message, but he'd showed up. Late, of course, because that was just how he was. But he showed up.

Everyone was already in the kitchen of the common floor when he got there. They were spread out between the table and the kitchen itself, passing food from counters to table, talking and laughing as they did. For a brief moment Tony just stood at the edge of the room and looked in at them and felt that familiar sensation that told him he didn't belong. There was something deep inside his gut saying, _You don't belong here, you don't belong with these people. You're not one of them. You're just the genius, the brains, that's it. That's all they need you for, and they could replace you easily with plenty of other people – Bruce included. You're not anything special_.

Those kinds of thoughts had plagued Tony often enough in his life for him to know how to ignore them. He pasted on a smile and pushed them down where no one would be able to see; not even himself. Just in time, too. His gaze landed on Clint and he found the man watching him. When he caught Tony's eye, he smirked and raised his voice just loud enough to draw everyone's attention and alert them that Tony was there. "Well look who showed up. You gonna linger in the door all day or you actually plan on coming in and eating something with us peasants?"

From most people those words probably would've carried a heavy dose of sarcasm that would've had Tony flinching inside. Instead, there was humor there, and a twinkle to Clint's eyes that made it less like he was laughing at Tony and more like he was including him in some sort of inside joke. Unable to help it, Tony let his grin grow. "You should be so lucky."

He was rewarded with a snort from the archer and an easy chuckle that had Tony relaxing just a bit more. "No skin off my nose." Winking, Clint curled his arm around the bowl he was in the process of taking to the table. "More for me."

Natasha reached out and neatly stole the bowl from Clint before he could even bat an eye. The whole kitchen laughed as he turned to give her a betrayed look. "Tash!"

Amidst all the laughter, Tony found himself pulled in to the middle of the chaos, no longer lingering on the edges of it. He was surprised to find just how easy it was to make his way into the flow of laughter and chatter. As a Stark, he'd always been a pro at working a room, or folding himself into a group and making himself at home. But this wasn't a party and it wasn't a group of potential business partners that he was trying to charm here. These were his coworkers… potentially his _friends_. He'd been beyond nervous at the idea of hanging out with them like this despite the fact that he was the one to invite them all to live here.

But they made it easy. Thor threw an arm around his shoulder when he got in there and loudly declared "Friend Tony! I'm glad you could join us for our feast!" and then he'd begun to regale them with tales of post-battle feasts he and his friends had had back home. It took up the conversation and entertained them all, filling the kitchen with the kind of laughter that had never been there before.

Somehow, Tony didn't end up feeling like he stood out here, or that he didn't belong. Even when Steve tried to hand him something and there was a brief moment of ' _oh shit what do I do he's going to think this is weird'_ he was saved by Natasha reaching out to take the plate as if it'd been intended for her the entire time, and she gave a smooth "Thanks, Steve" that pulled the man's attention away from Tony and his quirks.

Once the food was on the table, everyone took their seats. Clint nudged Tony with his hip and gestured to a couple chairs at the end of the table. "C'mon, we can sit down here away from the gods and super soldiers," Clint stage-whispered, grinning when it earned him rolled eyes from Steve and another loud laugh from Thor.

Tony quickly found out that Clint had brought him down there for more than that, though. As food was passed in a circle around the table, Clint not only served up his own plate, he served Tony's too.

"Um, Barton?" Tony wasn't quite sure what to say. He arched an eyebrow at the other man, who was scooping mashed potatoes onto his plate.

Across from them, Natasha let out a low laugh, warm and husky in a way Tony hadn't known her capable of. She caught Tony's eye and shook her head. "You get used to it," she warned him. "He likes to feed people. Even if he doesn't always eat the best himself."

"Shut it, you." Clint pointed a mashed potato covered spoon at Natasha, almost flinging a bit of it at her head as he did, because apparently the man had a _death wish_ and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

To Tony's continued surprise, Natasha just laughed.

In the end, Tony found himself with a full plate of food that he somehow managed to eat more than half of. It was the first time since the Battle that Tony actually sat down and ate an entire meal without getting distracted halfway through, or feeling the need to throw up. It was also the first time in quite a while he could remember smiling so much without having to fake it.

* * *

That might've been when things started, if Tony tried to pick a point. It was the first time that Clint fed him, though it wasn't the last. Tony quickly got used to the fact that Clint was seemingly obsessed with feeding the people around him. He was subtle about it most of the time. Hell, some of the others probably didn't even realize who it was that was feeding them. Pizza boxes on the counter, breakfast ordered or made just when the others got done with their workouts. He seemed content to make sure there was food for the others without being in their face about it – at least, with everyone except Tony. The archer got twitchy if Tony tried to skip out on more than one meal. If Tony spent too long down in the lab, it was sort of inevitable that Clint would pop in at some point and bring him something to eat, or try and convince him to step out and eat. Steve did the same thing, though he had nowhere near as much success. Tony tried not to let himself think about the 'why' of that.

JARVIS loved it all, the traitor. He was on Clint's side completely, letting the archer in even if Tony had locked everyone out, allowing him to bring food in there to him. Supporting him when Clint would try and get Tony to sleep some. They ganged up on Tony together in their apparent mission to get Tony to eat and sleep at regular intervals.

That was another thing. Once Clint had gotten on his 'feed Tony' campaign, he seemed to be trying to move on to other things as well.

The Avengers had been living at the Tower for a little over a month the first time that Tony went on one of his 'creative binges', as Pepper had called them.

There was a list a mile long of things that needed to get done. Stuff that SI was demanding from him that he really had to get in, a few requests that Fury had sent his way, and of course, team equipment. There was no way in hell Tony was going to let SHIELD take care of any of his teammates equipment. Absolutely not. He'd take care of it, thank you very much. None of their people were anywhere near good enough.

He'd just finished patching up part of Natasha's suit when a nearby vent was pulled open. The sound had become familiar enough that Tony didn't jump at the sound. He kept focusing on closing out the last of his plans and moving that item to the 'Done' list as he called out "You know, one of these days, J, you're going to remember who exactly it was that created you."

"I'm quite sure, Sir." JARVIS said easily.

Clint let out a chuckle and strolled right up to where Tony was working. Then, because he was annoying and a _heathen_ , he turned and hopped up to sit on the counter right where Tony was working at, not at all disturbed by the glare that Tony sent his way. "He likes me."

"He's a traitor." Tony grumbled. He shot Clint one last glare before turning to look at his list once more.

At least, he'd planned on looking at his list once more. Clint solved that by reaching out and waving a hand – since when had he paid enough attention to know how to work Tony's holograms? – and made the list vanish.

Tony spun back towards him with a sharp "Hey!" before he lifted a finger and pointed it at Clint, glaring even more than before. "Just because JARVIS likes you doesn't mean you get free reign to come in and take over my lab, Barton!"

"You've been down here for three days, and you haven't slept, haven't showered, and you only barely touched the food I brought for you."

How did he... Tony turned his glare up towards the ceiling. He was really going to have to talk to JARVIS about this. Assisting Clint in trying to _take care of him_ was one thing. Actively _tattling_ on him? No, no, that wasn't acceptable. Not at all. Bad enough that he'd used to do it with Pepper. They did _not_ need to start doing this with Clint, or anyone else for that matter. "Since when do you go tattling to Barton?"

"Protocol designates I report to someone, Sir, and without Miss Potts here, I chose Agent Barton as the next best option. Unless you'd rather I notify Captain Rogers, Sir?"

Good God, no. At least Clint tried to pretend to be subtle, or he did it all with an air that said it was no big deal. Steve… when Steve tried to get Tony to eat or sleep – and what was it with everyone being so obsessed with his eating and sleeping habits? – he always did it with that stern, occasionally disappointed air that only made Tony want to snap and snarl. Wrinkling his nose, Tony shook his head. "You've turned into a sneaky little shit, J. I don't know if I should approve or not." In reality, he most definitely approved. Tony was impressed with the sass being showed right now. JARVIS had come a long way from the AI who had simply followed Tony's commands. He'd grown into his own person. Despite how much Tony might grumble over what JARVIS chose to do with that autonomy, inside he applauded it.

Clint, the asshole, looked delighted by it all. "Consider me the new Tony-wrangler. That's what the others decided to call me, at least. I think it fits, don't you?"

"I think you're all assholes."

Laughing, Clint hopped down off the table and caught hold of Tony's arm, dragging him towards the doors whether he liked it or not, neither of them commenting on how little of a fight Tony actually put up. "Come on. You go up, grab a shower, and I'll order us up some Thai and we can watch a movie. I'll even let you pick."

That had Tony's attention snapping to him. The rest of the team never liked letting Tony pick. Movies and television were where his nerdy side tended to shine just the slightest bit. Star Wars, Stark Trek, Doctor Who, Stargate, Firefly – those were his kinds of shows. No one else here ever wanted to watch them with him.

As Clint tugged him into the elevator, Tony carefully watched his face. There was nothing there to suggest that Clint was just screwing with him. Nothing that he'd seen so far from the man supported that theory either. So far, Clint just seemed to be an easy, laid back guy, who just so happened to feel the need to feed Tony and put him to bed for some reason. And apparently watch movies with him. It was weird, but it wasn't unheard of. Rhodey could get like this sometimes. He'd been like this a lot in the early days. Likely, once Clint got used to how Tony was, and how he could be, he'd lay off. Either that or he'd just get tired of it.

Pointedly ignoring the way that his stomach clenched at that, Tony smiled brightly and stuffed his hands down into his pockets so he wouldn't start to reach out for something that wasn't his to touch. "I want Doctor Who. The one where Ten runs into Sarah and K9."

Clint shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal, and Tony resolved to milk this for all it was worth before Clint got bored. No one _ever_ wanted to watch his shows with him. "Isn't K9 that robot dog from one of the earlier Doctors?"

The fact that Clint knew even that much was enough to have Tony beaming. Forget just having someone to watch with him – he had someone who at least knew a little about the show and who wasn't sneering at him for it! The engineer was almost bouncing on his feet as he nodded his head. "Hell yeah. He's _great_. I tried to make my own K9 once when I was, oh, eleven or twelve, I don't remember which. He was a little better shaped, less bulky, but I got his voice pretty close to accurate."

As Tony launched into his description of the old robot he'd built, he let Clint lead him upstairs and towards his own floor. He didn't notice the indulgent way that the archer smiled at him, or how fond he looked as he led him inside.

It was no real surprise when the two ended up downstairs later that night, trying to make their own K9. Tony discovered that night that Clint was a lot smarter than he let on, was good with his hands, and while he might try and rein Tony in sometimes, he wasn't above indulging in his particular brand of crazy.

When the two came into the kitchen the next morning, half asleep and with K9 trailing along behind them, the teasing was embarrassing, but the proud grin on Clint's face and the way he slung his arm around Tony's shoulders and he explained what they'd done made it kind of worth it.

* * *

Tony had no idea how it progressed from there. It suddenly seemed like Clint was everywhere. Sure, Tony hung out with the others. They had movie night on the regular and 'Team Bonding' exercises, plus training and missions. But, the more that time went on, and the more comfortable that Tony became with Clint's mother-henning, the more he also began to realize that there was something different about it. Because Clint might feed everyone sometimes, but it was nothing like how he got with Tony and food. He didn't feed the others the way that he pushed food on Tony. Nor did he push for them to sleep or anything like that. He'd nudge them towards bed, sure, but he didn't drag them off if they refused the way that he would with Tony.

However, he was also noticing that his own reactions to it had changed. He didn't fight it anywhere near as often as he had before. When Clint brought him food, it'd become habit to turn his attention to it and eat, because he knew Clint wouldn't settle for anything else. If the archer tugged him out of the lab and sent him towards bed, Tony went, not even protesting as he did.

Little by little Clint was becoming a bigger part of Tony's life than he'd planned.

He wasn't the only one to notice it, either. Steve mentioned it one afternoon when he happened to come into the kitchen while Tony was eating a plate of tandoori chicken – which Clint had thrust at him with the orders to "Eat it, you brat, don't think I didn't notice you skipped breakfast!" before he'd darted off to spar with Natasha.

Steve startled a little at the sight of Tony sitting there eating, and then he smiled. "Hey, Tony."

In the months that the team had been living together, they'd gotten slightly more comfortable with one another. The fact that they all seemed to use the common floor probably helped with that. They were in one another's space often enough that it was either get used to each other or kill one another. But Tony could admit that it was him and Steve that had taken the longest to relax with each other. Neither one had made the best first impression on the other and they had to work past that. Tony was… well, he was learning to see beyond the man his Dad had spoken about, and Steve was starting to see there was more to Tony than met the eye.

"Hey, Steve." Lifting his fork, he gestured towards Steve's outfit – a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, with some running shoes. "Heading out to exercise?"

The disgust he packed into that last word made Steve laugh instead of bristle the way he once would've. That change made Tony want to smile proudly. "Soon. Figured I'd grab a few water bottles, first." And he did just that, snagging some from the fridge before turning around to face Tony again. He pointed one water bottle at Tony's food and smiled at him. "Barton caught you again, I see."

Tony rolled his eyes in mock annoyance that he knew was a whole lot less believable with the smile he wore. "Man's got a weird thing about food."

"Or maybe he just cares about his friends. Or you."

There was a slight quirk to that last part that Tony didn't even notice. A little twist, an amused smile, that went right over the tired man's head. "Meh." Tony shrugged one shoulder lazily and stuck another bite of chicken in his mouth. "Either way – food I don't have to cook. I'm not dumb enough to protest that." As if to prove that point he took another bite and grinned around it in a way he knew would make Steve roll his eyes.

He wasn't disappointed. Not only did he get an eye roll, he also got the 'I think you're funny but I'm not going to encourage you by smiling' look, and that was always a win in Tony's books. He was still grinning about it even after Steve left the room.

* * *

The first time he ever saw Clint really and truly pissed off at him was after everything with the Mandarin. Everyone had been off on missions of their own when the whole thing went down. No one had been around to lend a hand; not that he would've called them in. The idea of doing it didn't even occur to him. The Avengers were for big threats. They were for things like Hydra, and monsters, and people trying to take over the world. Not for something like this.

He didn't really think about how his friends might react to it.

By the time Tony finally headed back to the Tower, he was more than a little exhausted, and maybe more than a little broken, too. Pepper's words were ringing in the back of his mind the entire time there – _"I'm sorry, Tony, I just… I need time. I just need time" –_ and really, more than anything, Tony wanted to collapse into his bed and sleep for the next week. Or at least hide. One of the two. The urge to do it with a bottle in hand was strong and he was only just barely managing to resist. The exhaustion might've helped with that. He just didn't have the energy to go and dig up anything. Not when it was taking all his energy just to stand upright in the elevator.

Naturally, as he was swaying a little and propping himself up against the side of the elevator, that was when JARVIS had to warn him, "Captain Rogers is on the common floor, Sir, and he'd like to speak with you." There was definite disapproval in JARVIS's voice at that. Better than anyone, he knew how tired Tony was right now. "I advised him to wait until later, but he insisted I pass the message along."

Tony resisted the urge to sigh. Reaching up, he rubbed a hand over his face. Better to face this and get it over with. "All right, J. Let him know I'm on my way."

The minute the elevator doors opened Tony was bombarded. Steve was there, with Bruce and Natasha and even Thor – when had he gotten back? – and they all swarmed Tony the instant he stepped out of the elevator. The hugs he got were nice – the lectures that came next, not so much. "What were you thinking?" Steve demanded, arms crossed over his chest and the 'I'm so disappointed in you' look plastered over his face. "Challenging him on _national television_? Giving him your personal address? That was beyond reckless, Tony!"

Bad as it sounded, Tony just sort of checked out at that point. He stopped paying attention to Steve's rant and just stood there as the man went on and on about responsibility and personal safety and recklessness. It wasn't anything that Tony hadn't heard before. He'd heard it from Steve plenty of times in the past. From Rhodey, from Pepper, from Fury, from Happy even. Right at the moment he didn't really want to listen to it all over again. He just wanted to go upstairs and climb into his bed. His empty, cold bed.

"Tony?"

Bruce's low voice cut through the lecture and grabbed Tony's attention. He turned his head a little, trying not to let them see just how close he was to falling asleep on his feet. One look at Bruce's face and he had a feeling he was going to lose at that. The way the man was looking at him suggested he was already worried. His friend took a cautious step forward and lifted one hand, hovering it over his arm like he wanted to touch Tony but wasn't quite sure he should, and his eyebrows furrowed as he asked "Are you okay?"

There was no safe way to answer that. No one ever really wanted to know that you weren't okay, he knew. When they asked it was solely so that you could reassure them that you were fine and they could feel better about themselves. Tony turned over a few different responses in his mind, trying to find one that Bruce might believe. Before he had the chance to figure out which one was best, or even begin to put on the fake smile he hoped would fool them all, he was saved from it by the sound of the elevator doors opening.

Just barely did Tony manage to get himself turned around before he suddenly found himself yanked into a pair of arms that he was surprised to find he recognized instantly. Clint's arms wrapped around him, pulling Tony in close, and there was no mistaking the strength in them. Tony let himself get pulled in and he melted down a little into the embrace in a way he hadn't let himself do with anyone else so far. "Thank God." Clint breathed out against his ear. He drew his arms back, hands coming up to cup Tony's face, and he drew them apart just enough to be able to look at Tony's face. His eyes took in everything; all the things that Tony had been trying to hide from the others, he knew he wasn't hiding from Clint. There wasn't much that could be hidden from him.

The worry that was in Clint's eyes grew a bit darker, but he just pulled Tony back in again, holding him in a tight hug that hurt and felt so perfect. One of his hands cupped the back of Tony's head and held him in close. "I swear to God, Stark, you're not leaving my sight for the next _month_. You gave me a fucking heart attack."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, you will be. You might think I'm kidding, but I'm not. A _month_. You're stuck here at the Tower with me for the next month unless it's for work. I'm keeping your ass here where I can keep an eye on you."

Tony pulled back just enough that he could stare at Clint and blink his eyes a few times as he tried to process those words. "Are you… grounding me?"

"You bet your ass I am," Clint said firmly.

That was something he should probably protest. Especially with the audience they had. Yet… Tony didn't. He found himself just nodding his head and letting himself get pulled in for another hug. Buried against Clint, his body finally started to give up the fight, losing some of its will to stay upright. He slumped against the archer, who easily caught his weight, and a light tremor began to work its way through him. Between his exhaustion and the ache that was inside, this hug right here was exactly what he needed, but it was also threatening to break him apart.

Somewhere off behind them, Tony heard Steve saying "Clint…"

"Not right now, Cap." Clint's voice was steady and firm; a no-nonsense tone that meant he wasn't going to be moved on this. "He's dead on his feet. You can lecture him later. Right now he's fresh outta the hospital and he needs _sleep_."

With one of Clint's arms wrapped comfortably around him, Tony found himself being led back into the elevator and up to his floor. Not once did Clint let go of him. Not until they were in Tony's bedroom and he was moving his arm so that he could push Tony to sit down on the edge of the bed. The genius went with the gesture, too damn tired to even think about protesting. He found himself just staring as Clint knelt down to untie Tony's shoes.

It was strange to sit there and watch as Clint took off his shoes and socks for him. Yet… it was nice. Tony didn't have to do anything. All he had to do was sit there, hands lying useless in his lap, and just watch. Clint took care of everything. He took care of getting Tony's shoes put away, of pulling off his socks, and then he was shifting his weight on his heels and reaching up to start to pull off Tony's watch and undo the cuffs of his shirt.

Clint's expression was soft when he looked up. One hand lifted, knuckles brushing over Tony's cheek, and the engineer hadn't realized until that moment that he'd been crying. Oh Jesus fuck, he'd just been sitting here fucking _crying_ , what the ever-loving _fuck_. Tony's brain screamed at him for being an idiot, for letting himself go that much that he was acting like an idiot, like a _baby_ , in front of someone who'd moved their way into the tight knit group of his closest friends. It was just… Clint was being so damn _nice_ , and it was hitting all the right buttons, all those places deep down inside that Tony refused to talk about, refused to bring to light. Those places that wanted nothing more than to hand control over to someone else; someone he could _trust_. Even if Tony refused to think about it, Clint managed to reach down to those places quite a lot.

Before Tony could think of a way to try and salvage anything, save at least some of his pride, Clint was using his hand to brush away the tears on Tony's other cheek. "You're all right, buddy." The words were low and steady, a reassurance in them that made Tony _ache_.

He knew better than to think he could have what he wanted, though. Those kinds of thoughts were private; they were only indulged within the recesses of his mind where no one would know, no one would be able to laugh or sneer. Maybe they were thoughts and things that others might be able to get away with; normal people who weren't _Tony Stark_. For him, it wasn't possible. Opening his mouth, Tony tried to tell Clint that he was fine, that he could leave, only what came out instead was, "She left me." As soon as he said it he snapped his mouth shut. Embarrassment had him closing his eyes tightly.

"Aw, Tony." There was a shift of clothes and then Clint's hands were back, only this time he was nudging Tony forward, pulling him in just enough that Tony found he could press his face against something soft yet firm. It only took him a second to realize that Clint was standing in front of him and had pulled him in close enough for Tony's face to hide against his stomach. It was an entirely undignified pose. Tony should move away, he knew. He'd pushed things enough so far; he should pull back and tell Clint that he was _fine_ , dammit, just _fine_.

His hands shook as he clutched at the side of Clint's pants. Arms curled around his head and shoulders, hiding him out from the world.

Neither one of them mentioned it as Clint's shirt grew wet.

When the tears finally stopped, Tony was even more exhausted than before. His body had slumped in against Clint and he just didn't have the energy anymore to haul himself back up or even care how he looked. The best he could do was make a low sound of protest when Clint started to shift him. That sound cut off with a low "Shh" from his friend. "You're all right, Tone. We're just gonna get you laying down, that's all."

In short order Tony found his shirt and pants stripped away from him and he was being tucked into his bed. A pillow was pressed against his chest, which he gratefully latched onto, and another was tucked underneath his curled up knee, giving him something to snuggle against while propping him up and making it easier for him to breathe.

The last thing he felt before he drifted off to sleep was a firm hand pushing his hair back from his face and the dip of the bed as someone settled in behind him, warm and steady and _there_.

* * *

The lecture he got the next day, once Clint was sure he wasn't badly hurt and that he was a bit more steady, was one for the record books. Tony hadn't ever seen someone be so mad at him and not take a swing before. Only, Clint just yelled at him for being stupid, and the pointedly told him every moment which would've been better if backup had been there, and then extracted at least three different promises on how he'd keep himself safer in the future.

True to his word, Clint also stuck with 'grounding' Tony. Unless it was Avengers business or SI business, Tony didn't leave the Tower for the next month. He found his lab time restricted, too.

The fact that Tony complained about it, but didn't try to argue it, wasn't lost on him. Or on the others, either. Everyone could see that something had started to change between the two. They all had their different ideas about the reason why, though. In the end, nothing they thought was anything like what it was, or what finally happened when the two stopped dancing around one another.

* * *

Things finally came to a head after Clint and Natasha were sent out on a mission. The two of them leaving wasn't any big deal. It wasn't the first time they went out somewhere and it wouldn't be the last.

It was, however, the first time they'd gone out without any sort of warning.

Tony didn't catch on right away that Clint was gone. He'd feel kind of bad about that later. But when Clint left, Tony had been hiding down in his workshop, trying to distract himself from the rest of the world by putting himself into a building spree with the list of projects he needed to complete for SI, plus a few things that Fury wanted done, and the most notice he gave to anyone's presence was to turn away Steve when he came knocking at the workshop doors.

It was almost three days after Clint left before Tony finally gave up on ignoring Steve and let him in. So far, the man had knocked at least seven different times, and each time Tony had told JARVIS to turn him away.

He didn't bother turning away from where he was currently upgrading his armor. JARVIS had told him who it was, and the scent of fried chicken made it clear what he was there for. With his hands buried in the left thigh of his armor, Tony shifted his weight to get a better angle and wished absently that he'd tied something around his head to keep his hair back from his face.

"Tony," Steve's voice echoed around them, and yep, there it was, that stupid _tone_. The one that said that 'you're testing my patience' while also saying 'why can't you take care of yourself?' It was a tone that Pepper had… no, nope, not thinking about her. Tony snapped that thought down quickly.

Rubbing his cheek against his shoulder to try and get an itch, Tony lifted his head just enough to flash a grin over at Steve, trying to give off his own message of 'everything's fine' that he knew wasn't quite as up to par as normal. "Hey, Cap. What brings you down to my humble lair?"

As he walked further into the workshop, Steve took a deliberate look around him. "Only you would call this 'humble'."

Tony shrugged one shoulder to cover up the sting that comment left. He turned his focus back to the work in front of him and tried to ignore it as he heard Steve set the plate down on one of the tables. "To each their own."

"I brought you some dinner," Steve said, and his voice firmed a little the way it always did when he was preparing for a fight. "It's been a few days since we've seen you upstairs, and without Clint here, I'm a bit worried you haven't been eating. JARVIS said you haven't come upstairs for anything."

It was on the tip of Tony's tongue to snark something about JARVIS tattling on him again, only for the rest of Steve's words to sink in. "Clint's not here?" He looked up as he asked it, giving Steve a curious look. Come to think of it, it _had_ been a while since he'd seen his friend. And if he'd been in here a few days like Steve said, well, Clint usually would've been down here already, not just trying to feed Tony but nudge him out of here and up towards bed. The man was scary good at that whole raised-eyebrow look that just sort of made Tony snap to attention each time.

"Yeah, that's why I brought the food down. I figured someone should try and feed you while Clint isn't here to do it."

Though Steve said that in a joking tone, smiling at him and obviously expecting some kind of reaction, Tony froze. At least, he froze on the inside. Clint was gone? On the outside, he managed to make his lips quirk up a little and he rolled his eyes while he slowly began to untangle himself from the work in front of him. "I _can_ feed myself, you know. Done it for a long time now." Turning his back to Steve, he tried to look busy getting himself free, tried to keep his voice steady and pretend that it didn't want to shake. "So where'd Birdbrain head off to?"

"Last minute mission for SHIELD. Both him and Natasha left a couple days ago. He said it should be quick, just in and out, but they needed him."

Two days – he'd been gone for two days. No wonder Tony had been able to get such a good stretch of work going. His usually self-appointed-babysitter wasn't around to try and stop him.

Tony tried to pretend that didn't hurt. That it didn't make his gut clench.

(It didn't work)

He barely paid any attention to whatever he said to Steve next. However, it must've worked, because the man was gone a moment later and Tony was once more left alone in his workshop. Only this time there was no feeling of inspiration driving him. No need to go, to work, to _create_. There was just this strange, gnawing feeling down low in his gut, something that left him feeling sick and unsettled and just, unsure as he knelt on the floor and stared at his suit.

What was the big deal? So Clint had gone to do his job! Why was that a problem? This wasn't the first time the two SHIELD agents had been called away. Besides, it wasn't like he had to report to Tony or anything when he did something. This wasn't Tony's team, he didn't need to know where people went the way that Steve did. Sure, it might've been nice to have Clint let him know, but it sounded like it was important and he'd had to leave pretty quickly. _If he had time to tell Steve he was going, he had time to tell you_ , a voice whispered in the back of his head. Tony firmly pushed it away.

So what if Clint went off for work? Tony didn't care. They weren't dating or anything like that. They were just friends. Coworkers. There was nothing there that said that Clint had to let him know if he was going somewhere.

"Sir?"

The sound of JARVIS's voice had Tony startling. He realized that he'd been kneeling there for a while just staring down at his suit.

Abruptly, Tony shook his head and brought his focus back to the half-done project in front of him. He wasn't going to just sit here and mope like some idiot just because Clint wasn't around! Not when there was work to be done. "Pull up playlist three, JARVIS, and crank it up. I want to get this done."

"Sir, you should take a moment to eat the food that Captain Rogers brought down for you."

Tony waved a hand in the air and scoffed at him. "Pfft! Who has time for that? Genius waits for no man, buddy, you know that! Now, play it!"

There was only a brief pause before the Sex Pistols started to fill the air at a volume guaranteed to help drown out the thoughts in his head. The engineer pushed away all thoughts of anything else and threw himself into the project at hand. If his movements were a bit more frantic, well, there was no one around but JARVIS to notice, and JARVIS had seen him far worse than this.

* * *

It was another two days before Tony finally stumbled out of the workshop and up to his floor. Steve had come knocking more than once during that time only to find himself ignored each time. Tony threw himself into his work with only a brief pause here and there for a quick catnap. It wasn't until he almost burned his hand with the blowtorch that JARVIS used the safety protocols to lock down everything in the lab. Tony had put those protocols in a while ago. He knew how he could get when inventing, just as he knew how dangerous it could be if he pushed himself too hard. If he hit a point where he started showing certain signs, JARVIS would initiate a lockout that would prevent Tony from being able to do anything that might get himself killed. It wouldn't be lifted, either, until he either ate a full meal, or slept for a minimum of six hours, whichever one was needed for the situation. Or, if he was really bad, it'd stay locked down until he saw a doctor.

This time it was definitely sleep that he needed the most, though food was a close second. Tony resolved to fix the second after he took care of the first.

With that in mind, he headed straight for his bedroom, pausing only long enough to toe off his shoes and strip out of his jeans, almost falling down in the process. When they were finally off, he dropped himself down onto the bed, grabbing a pillow automatically and shuffling it to his chest to help brace the arc reactor so he could breathe while sleeping.

Before a full minute had passed, he was asleep.

* * *

Of course, he didn't _stay_ asleep. One thing he always forgot, and always hated himself for forgetting, was what tended to happen when he pushed himself to the point of exhaustion. When he got like that, he didn't have his usual strength or control, and there was absolutely nothing to stop his nightmares from slipping in.

The earlier insecurities that Tony didn't want to admit to had only attributed to his nightmares. When Tony shot up in bed, gasping and shaking, his heart was pounding and there was a plea on his lips, one he knew would never be answered. One that he'd learned at a very young age meant nothing, yet he could never stop himself from uttering it.

His lungs protested as he tried to curl himself in around his pillow. Tony knew he was gasping, knew he was going to hyperventilate if he kept this up, yet he couldn't help it. His body curled inwards as he lay back on his bed. The nightmare was like a living thing, playing around the edges of his mind, making damn sure he remembered every second of it. In the quiet of the room Tony swore he could hear the echo of the voices in his head, _his_ voice, pleading, _'Please, no, I'm sorry, I won't do it again! I'm sorry!'_ No amount of apologizing had worked, though. The pain had still come afterwards, and it was something that Tony could never forget.

Caught up in the fear and the need to _breathe_ , Tony didn't register his door opening, or the footsteps coming towards him. He didn't register anything at all until the bed suddenly dipped and his eyes shot open to find the last thing he'd expected. Clint was right there in front of him, concern bright on his face.

The man looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes – or were those bruises? – and his hair was mussed like he'd just climbed out of bed. To add to that, he was in only a t-shirt and boxers, nothing else. He looked scruffy and sore and tired – and exactly what Tony wanted.

There was one split second where the two stared at one another, eyes locked and neither one of them all that sure, and then Tony let out a sound that was somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper. That was all that was needed to spur Clint back into motion. He was on the bed in the next instant and was gathering Tony up against his chest like he was something precious. Something little and small and worth taking care of. The archer pulled him in and held him close, stroking at Tony's back while he murmured in a low, sleep-husky voice. "Shh, shh, you're all right, Tone. You're okay. I got you, buddy. I'm right here and I got you."

The combination of his dream and the fears it had brought to life, as well as the fears that Tony hadn't wanted to admit to earlier, plus Clint's presence _right here_ , not gone anymore but _back_ , all of that mixed together in Tony's head, breaking down the walls he would've otherwise tried to keep up. Walls that he'd kept up for a long, long time. When Clint shifted back for something, Tony couldn't stop the tears that slipped free. Nor could he stop the word that slipped past his lips – the one that he'd thought of once or twice but hadn't dared even _think_ of uttering. But Clint moved away and Tony's hands clutched at his shirt as a stuttered " _M-Mom_ " slipped past his lips.

As soon as he said it, horrified realization slipped in and Tony tried to jerk back, make himself run away. Only he didn't get the chance. Clint was tugging him back in and bringing Tony right up against his chest once more, which gave the engineer a perfect place to hide his face. Clint scratched at his hair and rubbed his back again. "You're all right, buddy, I'm not going anywhere. Just had to get that pillow out of my back, that's all. I'm staying right here."

"S-Sorry," Tony gasped the words out past the pounding of his heart and the aching in his lungs. God, he was so stupid! _Stupid, stupid idiot!_ He clutched tighter at the pillow that was still against his chest, squashed between them, and it made it just a bit easier to breathe as he bent forward and pushed his forehead up against Clint's collarbone. "I didn't, I mean I don't… I wasn't…"

Clint made another low shushing sound. His hand rubbed up and down Tony's back in firm, smooth strokes that seemed to be pushing the tension right out of him. "It's fine, sweetheart. I don't mind. It's all right." On and on he kept up that soothing murmur of words until Tony's breathing finally slowed and the pounding in his heart stopped being so loud.

There was a part of Tony that wanted to stay awake; to maybe talk about what had just happened. The rest of him was more than happy to snuggle in against Clint's chest and drift back to sleep in a place he knew was safe.

* * *

Morning came far too soon for Tony's tastes. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep. But when he blinked his eyes open, he found that there was light in his room. That meant it was at least daytime. Tony didn't want to move to try and figure out what time it was. He didn't really care. He was warm, comfortable, wrapped up in his blankets and with a warm body right there in front of him, a solid thigh under his arm…

Wait, what?

Tony's eyes snapped open again when he realized he wasn't just cuddling a pillow. The pillow was against his chest, propping him up enough to breathe, but on the other side of it was a half-bare thigh, which he had his arm flung over. Tony ran his eyes over the skin there, up to the pair of boxers, and then further up, peeking through messy hair to the body that was sitting up in bed next to him.

He found Clint Barton sitting there propped up against pillows, drinking a cup of coffee and smiling almost fondly down at him.

Last night came back to Tony in a flash and he felt color fill his cheeks. He remembered it now. The nightmare, the panic attack that had started afterwards, and then Clint coming in, Clint holding him as he cried, as he… as he called him… _Oh God._ Embarrassment had Tony dropping his head back down to bury his face against the pillow. Above him, he heard Clint chuckle. "Afternoon, Tony. I was beginning to wonder when you were gonna wake up."

There was nothing in Clint's tone to suggest that he was mad. Tony gripped tightly to that realization. Clint didn't _sound_ mad. Of course, that didn't mean that he _wasn't_.

With his face still buried against the pillow, Tony blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You're still here."

Instead of being offended, it sounded like Clint was grinning. "Aren't you the smart one?"

The teasing tone washed over Tony and chased away some of the shadows that were still clinging inside of him. Okay, maybe Clint wasn't mad. Maybe… maybe he was going to let Tony pretend that last night never happened?

The disappointment that Tony briefly felt at that was shoved far, far down. He closed his eyes and snuggled himself down into the pillow. "Bite me."

"Only if you ask nicely."

The familiar banter eased a bit more of Tony's tension. At the same time, it didn't go away entirely, because Tony knew his previous thought was wrong – he knew there was going to be no way of getting out of this. Even if Clint didn't sound mad, there was something else in his tone, something that suggested that he wasn't quite as relaxed as he was pretending to be.

Much as Tony might want to get up and run, he had a feeling that it wasn't going to work this time. Not with the way that Clint was sitting there _waiting for him to wake up_. He knew the archer well enough to know that there was no way Clint was going to just let him walk away after last night. Even if he'd thought he _might_ , the hand that dropped down to card through Tony's hair disabused him of that notion. It was offering comfort while at the same time keeping him right where he was. That was a clear enough sign. Keeping his eyes closed, Tony tried not to sigh. "You want to talk, don't you?"

"We probably should," Clint said easily.

Tony grumbled and pushed his face further into the pillow until no more light could get in. "I haven't had any coffee yet."

"So I'm more likely to get blunt, honest answers."

Bastard. Clint knew him a little too well and was smart enough to use it against him. _Better to just get this over with. If he's gonna run, might as well just get it out of the way._ "What're we talking about first, then? The nightmare, the ridiculous panic attack, or my stupid mouth? Cause, I gotta tell you, I could probably save us both the trouble and recite any of those lectures for you. I've heard them all before."

He was surprised when Clint's hand shifted off of his hair to suddenly grab at his shirt. The tug there made it clear what Clint wanted. If it hadn't, Clint's firm "Come up here, I'm not talking to the top of your head" did.

Fine. Tony could do this. He could sit up and face this. A short talk, a bit of embarrassment, and then Clint would leave and Tony could wallow all he wanted on his own. He could have JARVIS lock down his bedroom and hide out here until he built his walls back up enough to be able to face everyone again.

Tony pushed himself up slowly until he was finally sitting cross-legged on the bed right next to Clint's legs. He didn't let go of the pillow – sue him, he wanted the comfort of it, the small shield between them. Once he was upright he made himself lift his eyes and meet Clint's steady gaze. "All right. Let's get this over with, then."

For a long moment Clint just stared at him. His eyes ran over Tony's face as if trying to read something there. Whatever he saw, he must not have liked it, because the smile melted away to a small frown. One that put this little furrow between Clint's eyebrows. What came out of his mouth next wasn't at all what Tony had been bracing for. "Tony… I'm not mad at you."

 _What_? Tony stared stupidly at the man in front of him. "What?"

"I'm not happy with how little you've been taking care of yourself – have you even had a bath since I've been gone?" Clint waved a hand in the air before Tony could try and answer that. Then he went on blowing Tony's expectations to smithereens. "Either way, I'm not mad at you. So you had a nightmare – so what? We all have them. I know for a fact JARVIS has called you out to the kitchen after one of mine, so it's not a big deal he called me in here for one of yours."

So that was how Clint had gotten in here… Tony digested that, storing it away for later. The rest of him was focused on the blasé way that Clint was talking about all this. "But…" This wasn't what Tony had expected! Where was the temper? Where was the anger? Where was the _disgust_? Was he just screwing with Tony? If he wasn't mad about the nightmare part of things, he should at least be freaking out about the rest. And because Tony couldn't leave well enough alone or just accept the win he had here and move on, he had to push, had to _know._ "What about the…" Pausing, he forced himself to swallow, hating just how young and small his voice came out sounding next. "The thing I said."

One of Clint's hands broke away from his coffee mug to reach out for Tony. He paused when Tony flinched; a gesture that said a lot at the moment. But he didn't pull back. He waited, watching Tony's face, until he was sure it was okay, and then he brought that hand forward and curled it over Tony's cheek. "I told you last night, I don't mind. It's all right, Tony."

There had to be some sort of game here. Something that Tony just hadn't caught on to yet. There was no way that Clint was just _fine_ with this. It would've been bad enough if Tony had called him _Dad_ or something like that. Though at least then he might've been able to play it off as just some sort of kink or something, even if that wasn't it at all. Half the world thought Tony Stark was a kinky sonofabitch anyways. But _no_ , he'd called freaking Clint Barton _Mom._

A heavy sigh slid from Clint. He stretched to set his mug down on the nightstand and then he was cupping Tony's face with both hands and holding him firmly so that there was no chance of him pulling away. Dark eyes locked on his and there was no way Tony could look away. They held his gaze, steady and serious in a way that so few got to see. "Tony, I'm serious – _it's fine_. You can call me Clint, Barton, _Mom_ , it's okay. I don't mind. I'm honored you look up to me enough to use a title like that, all right?"

"It's not sexual." Tony blurted out. Because, of course. Naturally he had to say something like that. His brain to mouth filter was bad on a good day; after a bad night and with no real chance to wake up, it didn't really exist, and Clint's words had made him worry that maybe the man was reading something into this that he didn't want him to. If he was telling the truth about being okay with this – and he hadn't lied to Tony yet, had he? – then Tony didn't want him misunderstanding what it was.

To his surprise, Clint smiled at him, that soft one that made his eyes smaller and made Tony's heart clench a little. "I didn't think it was."

"I don't… I don't age play, either." Even if sometimes the idea of it seemed a _little_ appealing. He didn't need that. He didn't _need_ any of this, really, no matter how much the rest of him was trying to tell him otherwise.

Clint nodded at him, still smiling. "All right. For the record, I wouldn't care if you did, but it doesn't bother me that you don't." There must've been something of the stunned surprise that Tony felt written on his face, because Clint's expression gentled a little more. He stroked his right thumb over Tony's cheek. "All right, kiddo, let's lay this out. Cause I don't think you're gonna relax until we do. You like what we've been doing, right? Me taking care of you, making sure you eat, making sure you take care of yourself, giving you boundaries, being the parent while you get to relax and be kind of like a kid with someone else in charge – you like all that, right?"

Something squirmed through Tony's gut. He had to fight not to break eye contact. Talking about this kind of stuff… he'd only ever done it a few times in life, and those had rarely ended well. He didn't want to ruin things with Clint, too. But the man was watching him so patiently, waiting for Tony's answer, and what else was he supposed to do? Cheeks flaming, Tony nodded.

"Good. I do, too," Clint said. There was nothing but truth in his words and it had some of that squirming embarrassment and fear in Tony's gut going away. He found it easier to keep eye contact and shake his head 'no' when Clint asked him "Is there anything I've done that you really don't like?" There'd been nothing so far that Tony could really say he didn't like. They hadn't hit any of his hard limits. Clint didn't try to touch him to punish him; that was something that, yeah, _no_.

That squirming came back worse than ever, though, when Clint asked "Is there anything I'm _not_ doing that you'd like me to do?"

Tony's cheeks flamed bright with embarrassment as a few different things popped into mind. He couldn't stop himself from ducking his head down and breaking their stare. To his surprise, Clint let him. Not only that, he slid his hand around to cup the back of Tony's neck, and he pulled him in close, letting Tony climb right up against him and curl up in just the right spot to hide his face against Clint's neck. "It's all right," Clint murmured to him. He curled his other arm around Tony and kept him close. "You're all right. That wasn't an easy question, was it? I know you don't believe me yet, but you can _always_ ask me for things, kiddo. I might not always say yes, but I'm never gonna make you feel bad just for asking."

That was easy for him to say. And sure, he might not mean to make Tony feel bad, but what if he laughed? What if he thought Tony was being stupid? The last thing Tony wanted to do was screw up what they already had going just when it looked like he was _this close_ to getting what he'd wanted for so long. After all this, he was happier than he'd expected to be, and he was getting more out of this than he'd ever gotten with anyone. Why mess that up?

A low humming sound vibrated Clint's chest and had Tony focusing on him again. Just like last night, Clint started to stroke Tony's back with those firm, smooth strokes, pushing away some of his tension with it. "Okay. Why don't we start with this instead – can you tell me one thing I already do that you like?"

Tony squirmed uncomfortably, though he didn't try to pull away. He could do that. He could answer that for him. Clint had already said he liked all the things they were already doing. So, Tony saying he liked one thing in particular, that wouldn't be bad, would it? Tony chewed on his lip and fiddled with the top of the blanket, staring down at his hands before blurting out "I like it when you call me names." Almost instantly he winced, knowing how that probably sounded, or how Clint might take it. "Nice names."

He felt Clint chuckle a little. It wasn't mean sounding, though. It sounded sort of nice. "Yeah? Usually I weird people out with that. Good to know you like it – I'll stop holding back."

That made Tony smile a little. Good. He could get behind that. The nicknames, they were nice, and they made him feel kind of special. Less like 'Tony Stark' and more like just _Tony_. Kind of like how he felt right now. Clint's easy acceptance of this _thing –_ he wasn't going to label it yet, not really, not until he knew _for sure_ – it had Tony relaxing, letting just a hint of himself out of that place inside where he hid all those childlike things he'd been trained to ignore since childhood.

"Now, you think you can tell me something you like that I _don't_ do?"

That question almost had Tony tensing up again, only it was cut off when Clint's hand smoothed over his back once more and pushed away the tension that was trying to form. He found himself melting against the other man just a little bit. There were a few things he could say here, some of which he knew would be easier than others. Some that he doubted Clint would have any problem with at all. And yet, when he opened his mouth, he ended up saying one thing he wasn't quite sure about. "Can… can you… if you leave, can you tell me?"

He felt Clint go still and worried briefly that he'd done something wrong. Maybe he shouldn't have asked that! Tony was already trying to think of how to pull back and salvage this, distract him somehow, when Clint let out a heavy sigh and pulled Tony in closer. "Aw, sweetheart. Yeah – yeah, I can do that. I'm sorry I didn't think about doing that before."

"It's okay," Tony hurried to reassure him. He wasn't trying to make Clint feel bad! "I just, I like knowing where everyone is, and when you didn't show up for a couple days it was weird, that's all."

The humming sound that Clint made this time wasn't entirely pleased sounding. It didn't seem like it was Tony he was upset with, though. "I thought Steve would handle it. That don't matter, though. Next time, I'll make sure to let you know myself, all right? I won't leave it up to someone else unless I've got no choice, I promise."

Almost immediately Tony slumped against him. Clint's word was gold. The man never broke a promise if at all possible. If he said he was going to do something, or try his best to do it, he meant it.

For a few moments the two of them just sat together and Tony relished in the feeling of it. He'd woken up being utterly terrified that he was going to lose some of this, or lose Clint entirely, and instead he was sitting here being held and soothed and signing himself up for so much more than he'd ever thought he would find. His chest felt light and he found himself slipping his arms around Clint, hugging him. It got him a hug in return that made him smile.

Eventually, Clint broke their silence, though. "I just got one last question, and it's an important one, buddy, so I want you to think about it for a second, all right?" He waited for Tony's jerky nod before he asked, in a careful voice, "Is this something you want to keep private, or just in the Tower, or what?"

Oh. That had Tony pausing, tilting his head a little to think. "Not at SI." There was no way Tony could have this kind of stuff happening around his job; any sense of respect that people had for him would vanish after that. As for everywhere else… well, if Clint didn't have a problem with this, Tony wasn't going to, either. He might've been embarrassed to ask for this or talk about it, but if Clint was okay with it, it couldn't be that bad, could it? The idea of being able to have _this_ in his life when he needed it, not just hidden behind closed doors, was too tempting to resist. Plus, they'd already been doing most of this here in the Tower and no one had noticed anything, at least not in a way that made Tony worry. He knew the others seemed to think they were dating, or screwing, one of the two. They didn't suspect what this really was.

Still, he was a bit nervous as he said "Um… just, just in the Tower, maybe? I mean, if some of it happens outside, it's… it's okay. I just, um, maybe a bit more discreet out there?"

He felt Clint nodding against the top of his head. "Yeah, absolutely. I get that you've got an image to maintain. I'll do my best not to screw with that, Tony, I promise. I won't embarrass you or screw up in front of important people, and I'll do my best to be as discreet as possible if reporters might see."

"They'll just assume we're fucking."

Clint's hand lifted away from his hair to lightly thump the back of his head. "Watch your mouth." His hand went back to stroking Tony's hair and he kept on speaking before Tony could protest that remark. "That's fine, then. Not like I care what the reporters think of me. Still, I'll make sure I'm careful. But – you sure you don't care about it around here, in front of the others?"

Pushing past Clint's random need to lecture him on _language_ , Tony bit his lip and shrugged one shoulder. "Not if you don't."

"I don't care. It's not anything I'm ashamed of." The arms around Tony tightened, pulling him in closer. "You're not anything I'm ashamed of."

"Even if… even if I call you Mom?" He chewed on his lip and tilted his face in so he could hide against Clint's shirt again. God, he'd spent so much of the morning hiding out here, acting like an idiot. But this, it was important! There'd always been this part of Tony that wanted more than anything to have someone in his life who could help him, who could take care of him, and who _wanted_ to do it. He'd been alone for so damn long, always doing things on his own, always having to act far older than he really was. Here, with Clint, he didn't have to, and he wanted to do anything he could to keep it. "I'll try not to around the others, I really will, it's just sometimes it's in my head and I'm not always great at keeping things from slipping out, but I don't want to embarrass you in front of everyone and they'll probably laugh and…"

"Woah, woah, buddy, breathe!" Clint cut him off, laughing a little as he did. He gave Tony a small squeeze, his smile audible in his voice as he reassured him "I don't care. I told you I didn't mind and I meant it. They can laugh all they want. I'm never gonna not be proud to hear you say something like that."

"Even if it's a girls' name?" Tony whispered.

He heard Clint chuckle. "Even then. You and I… I'm thinking neither one of us had the best examples of fatherhood. I've heard you talk about your Mama, though. Comparing me to her – how'm I gonna be anything but complimented?"

With just a few words Clint neatly summed up perfectly what Tony felt. Howard _hadn't_ been the best example of a father, and if Tony had tried to call Clint 'Dad' it would've put the two together in Tony's mind, put Clint in that place that only Howard occupied. The responses Tony had to that… it would've soured anything he did with Clint. But 'Mom'… Mom, to him, meant care. It meant someone who fed you, someone who worried about you, someone who bandaged your hurts and took care of you when you were sick. Someone who'd call you out when you did something wrong, but who'd still care afterwards, who'd boost you back to your feet. Someone who'd recognize your good times and praise you for them.

Someone like Clint.

Neither man mentioned it when the collar of Clint's shirt got a little wet. He just held Tony close and rocked them both a little until the last of Tony's tears had finally stopped. When they did, he pulled up the hem of his shirt and made Tony laugh as he used it to wipe off his face. The both of them were grinning by the time he was done. "There," Clint said happily, patting Tony's cheek with his hand. "Better. Now, you need to go in and take your meds, and you need to do your breathing treatments. I can hear the gunk when you breathe. Need any help with it?"

A different day and Tony might've declined, just like he had pretty much every other time anyone had offered to help him. But in light of this morning's conversation, it was remarkably easy for Tony to smile at him and give a shy nod. "Sure."

"K. Call me in when you're ready, then."

As Tony made his way over to the bathroom, he couldn't seem to stop beaming. When he'd invited the Avengers to come and stay with him, he'd figured that he'd get closer with his teammates, maybe make a friend or two. He hadn't counted on finding something like this. But now that he had, he was going to do everything in his power to hold on to it. He'd finally found someone willing to take care of him – who didn't seem to see it as a chore.

He might not have known Clint Barton when he first came here, but he did now, and he had a feeling his life was only going to be better for it.


End file.
